


Five (Or Six) Times Phil Coulson Realized He Was The Avengers Dad

by Harry4Life (ImaMePanda)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU after Avengers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Phil Coulson, Canon What's Canon?, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Even If Coulson Low-Key Wants To Beat The Shit Out Of Him Right Now, Fury & Coulson Are Bro's, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, POV Phil Coulson, Phil Coulson & Nick Fury Friendship, Phil Coulson is Team Dad, Protective Phil Coulson, Team Feels, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaMePanda/pseuds/Harry4Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean they don't know I'm alive, Nick?”  Phil Coulsen's eyes were fixed hard on his boss, and if the tone of his voice or the way he leaned forward were perhaps a bit more threatening than was generally considered appropriate towards a superior Phil didn't really give a damn right now.</p>
<p>All in all, it might have been a bit more effective if he weren't still in medical, wearing a hospital gown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you _mean_ they don't know I'm alive, Nick?” Phil Coulsen's eyes were fixed hard on his boss, and if the tone of his voice or the way he leaned forward were perhaps a bit more threatening than was generally considered appropriate towards a superior Phil didn't really give a damn right now.

 All in all, it might have been a bit more effective if he weren't still in medical, wearing a hospital gown.

 “Just what I said,” Nick gave Phil a Look right back, raising an eyebrow, “It was necessary to pull them together as a team. You know what those jackasses can be like, at each other's throats half the time. They needed something to fight for.”

 “What, all of New York wasn't good enough?”

 “Nope. Your team has issues.” Fury said matter of factly. “Good luck with that.” Coulson let out a surprised huff of a laugh and then hissed a bit as the mostly healed skin from his wounds pulled, waving a hand at Nick when the smirk on his face changed instantly to concern.

 “I'm fine, Nick, really.” Nick nodded, but gestured curtly for Phil to lie back against his pillows, not relaxing until he'd done so. He _was_ fine, somehow. Or really, with another two weeks in medical, mostly fine.

 He'd been certain he was dying when Loki had stabbed him. Certain he'd been _dead_. But somehow... Phil didn't remember anything of the months he'd been “healing” and all Nick had said when he told him that was a gruff, “Good, I imagine it was painful.” Still, he hadn't known Fury for over twenty years to not be able to tell there was more to it than that. There was something the man wasn't telling him.

 Also, he kept having weird dreams where he was in Tahiti. What was that about?

 Phil sighed to himself, not about to let himself be distracted from the bombshell that his friend and one time partner had dropped on him. “It's bad enough you didn't tell the others, but Barton and Romanov? I've been Clint's handler for over ten years and Natasha's since she joined SHIELD. For god's sake, sir, I have them down as my next of kin!”

 Phil rather thought Nick had given up the ability to look ashamed for the ability to shout “motherfucker” at whoever he wanted and somehow never get any flack for it-even when he was much lower down the totem pole then the perch at the top he had now. This time didn't prove any different, but at least he had the decency to look thoughtful, rubbing his chin. “I've been trying to get your team to bond here, giant secrets between them aren't exactly helpful. But...to tell you the truth I've been considering telling Barton the last month or so, the kid hasn't exactly been himself lately.”

 “What aren't you telling me?” Phil stayed back against the pillows-he wouldn't lie to himself, even this short interaction had tired him more than he'd expected-but that didn't keep his voice from being clipped and demanding, or his eyes from focusing on Nick like lasers. Nick-Nick “Motherfucker I will shove my foot so far up your ass you'll taste leather” Fury _actually_ looked away, and _wouldn't_ meet his eyes. Phil felt a panic that probably wasn't good for his healing, and without even thinking about it reached out and snagged the other man's tie, jerking him close so he _had_ to look at him.

 “Motherfucker, what the-” “Fury, what the _fuck_ is wrong with my kid?”

 “You are lucky you are in a hospital bed, you realize this, right?” Phil did not release his grip on Nick's tie, instead he pulled him even closer and let out a sound that may or may not have been a growl.

 “ _Talk.”_ Nick rolled his eyes and glared at him, jerking himself free from Phil's grip, but then nodded, so Phil supposed that would have to do.

 “Idiot blames himself for what that daddy-issue riddled alien freak made him do. Doesn't matter that nobody sane blames him, Barton doesn't listen.” Phil filed away the information that this meant someone 'insane' _did_. “Wouldn't go to any therapy sessions unless somebody dragged him at first, though he knocked that shit off right quick when he figured out he wasn't going back in the field til he was cleared and that meant Romanov would have to go on missions with someone else. It's not all bad. Bonded a bit with the other Avengers-him, Stark and Thor are a goddamned menace together. Only on his terms though, when he isn't in a mood, but it's promising. But, well...he hasn't jumped out of the vents onto any of the junior agents shouting “caw, caw, motherfucker” since the invasion. Or pretended to be a ghost from them in the middle of meetings. Let me tell you, I never thought I'd be unhappy about that. But well, it's just...strange. Practically lives in them when he's at shield, like the little shit always has, but he's quiet in there now.” Phil's heart jumped at that, but he kept his breathing steady, eyes firm on Nick's, certain that wasn't all. “He blames himself for your death. Thinks if he hadn't been forced to give up Shield secrets none of it would have happened.”

 “Except, I'm not dead you _bastard_.” He let his body slump, suddenly exhausted, and fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes. There was a long pause, and then Phil spoke up again, needing to know, “And Natasha?”

 “Didn't talk to anybody but Barton for a good two weeks, once the battle was done. Didn't say much at all for a good month and a half. Sent a couple agents heard to have made negative comments about you or Barton to the infirmery towards the end of that first month. Got back into her normal routine after that. Still closed off, still hurting, but overall coping better than Clint is, at least on the surface. She's always been good at that though.” Phil didn't say anything, because Nick was right. He wouldn't know about Natasha until he _saw_ Natasha, and he wanted out of this goddamned hospital room _now._ “So, your kids, huh? Does that make me Uncle Nick?” It wasn't like Nick to sound hesitant or guilty, so he didn't, but Phil could still tell it was there even without opening his eyes. He said nothing, thinking.

 The truth was he didn't know when exactly he'd started thinking of Natasha and Clint as his. Not just his either, his agents, or even his family in general, but his _kids_ . There was a part of his brain that seemed to insist he'd always felt that way, that it had always been that way, at least for as long as Phil had known them. He knew that wasn't entirely true, that his affections had built up, if not particularly slowly, than at least steadily over the years. Still though, he could remember overhearing scuttlebutt about Natasha not long after Clint had recruited her, saying she was fooling some, but not them, that they knew the murderous commie for what she was. Considering Natasha had only been with them for about six months at the time, it was not really something that was out of line to think. Still, it had brought up a rage in him that those men had not known they were lucky he was so good at shoving down, walking past them with only a cold look to let them know he had overheard, taking genuine pleasure at the way they'd blanched, hurrying away from each other. All he had been able to think was how _dare_ they. Couldn't they see what had been done to her, this women who was little more than a child, how her country had more than betrayed her? Yes she was an assasin, and probably the most dangerous person he had ever met, there was no denying that. She was also an incredibly damaged young woman who had overcome more than those men had ever even thought about; and from the strength he could see in her, would continue to do so no matter what was thrown at her.

 He had questioned Clint's bringing her in himself rather than following through with his orders to eliminate the target(God, that chilled him, to think that Natasha had been a _target_ , that if things had gone just a little differently...) himself. Not publicly of course, never publicly, but later in their own private debriefing, after a few choice words from Phil to Clint about warning him before he decided to befriend dangerous assasins so as to avoid giving his handler a heart attack, he'd asked him why.

 “You gave me a second chance, Sir. Most people wouldn't have you know, not after the things I've done. But you did, and got SHIELD to go along with it. You decided I deserved one, and I hope I've proved you right.” Phil had opened his mouth to tell him that of course he had, but Clint had shushed him with a raised hand and a brief smile. “I wasn't sure what it was you saw in me that made you want to give me a second chance, Sir, until I looked in the widow's eyes and saw it in hers.” Phil had been floored, not an emotion he usually experienced. Natasha had been given her second chance, and never given either him or Clint a reason to regret it.

 And Clint. SHIELD had first started looking at him in his circus days, had been planning on approaching the boy when he'd signed up for the military. Phil had been watching him, for almost a year at that point-possibly closer than he was meant to, but while it had been clear that most of the carnies had been good to Clint, there had been a few that put his hackles up-and had asked for permission to approach him anyway. It wasn't as though SHIELD couldn't get him out of his army contract. He'd been denied. The boy who'd gone to boot camp right after his eighteenth birthday had been angry, but not hopeless. Two tours in Afghanistan had cured him of that.

 Clint had been so guarded, such a sarcastic, angry person, that most of the handlers at shield had refused to work with him. Most thought that was why he'd been assigned permenantly to Phil, an unusual arrangement, and it was part of it. Mostly it had been that Clint didn't respond to him like that. Didn't bristle as though every order were an insult, a condemnation of his abilities, didn't sneer his 'sirs' so roughly it might as well have been a curse. Clint prided himself on his skills, and never let the disdain he clearly felt for most of his handlers interfere with the actual mission. With Phil he went above and beyond, pushing himself further and faster, honing his already impressive abilities to new leagues. For some reason Clint had respected Phil in a way he did not anyone else, and more than that he had wanted Phil to be proud of him, and been willing to work for it. If he had chosen Natasha, Clint had chosen him. Phil had never been so honored.

 “Phil?” He continued saying nothing for a long moment, gathering himself, then opened his eyes and stared at Nick dead on.

 “The day I am released you will arrange for me to go to Avengers tower and meet with _my_ team. I'd ask for you to at least tell them now, but I do like you alive-and I assure you that might not be the case if you were to tell them you'd kept my status from them for almost a year. You are going to assign me, permanently, to the Avengers as their handler. You will not interfere with my team in ways that go beyond normal sanctioned Shield operations, or feed them false information in order to further your goals no matter how valient they may be-if that needs to be done, I'll do it. You will not change their assignment or duties without my approval or otherwise attempt to alter _my_ team.”

 Nick looked back at him, expressionless, and Phil knew that if anyone else had talked to the man like that he would have wiped the floor with them, hospital bed or no hospital bed. He also knew very well that not only would Nick not do anything to him, he would, with only a little argument at worst, give in to his demands. “Anything else?”

 “Yes-tell whoever is on duty I need more pain medicine and then leave me alone for awhile. I'm not pleased with you, Nick.”

 “I understand. I still think I did what I had to do, but I understand.”

 “Good-get the fuck out of my room, sir.”

There was a pause, and then Nick nodded, slowly standing up, “Good night, Agent Coulson.”

 “Good night, Director.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you tell me what you think.


	2. Clint & Natasha 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within two minutes of walking back into Avengers Tower Coulson is forcibly reminded of how much his team needs him.
> 
> Also, Clint is going to make him go bald.

_'words'=_ sign language

 

When Phil walked into the conference room in Avengers Tower where the team was gathered he was far more nervous than he allowed himself to look. A shocked silence descended over the room as one by one they noticed him, mouths dropping open and eyes staring unwaveringly. Phil's hands uncessarily straighten his jacket as the tension rises, which for him was about the equivelant of hand wringing. He opened his mouth to say something-Phil had had something prepared, of course he had, but for the life of him he couldn't remember a word of it-when two things happen very quickly: Natasha all but plasters herself to him in a quick, desperate, hug, moving away from him before he can properly return it and Clint _breaks and jumps out the window_.

Phil just came back from the dead, his heart really cannot take this kind of stress right now. He's at the window in a second flat, Natasha right with him, and breathes only when he sticks his head out the window and sees that Clint is _fine,_ if a story lower and a room over. Of course the archer would know the outside of the building as well as the inside, had known there was a safe perch right there for him. “Clinton Francis Barton,” Phil carefully kept his voice firm and calm, a voice that expected obedience without drama or fanfair; even as half of his mind wondered if he wasn't taking liberties, after being gone for a year, even if he'd spent most of it in a coma, and the other half wanted to _throttle_ the idiot for scaring him like that, “Come back inside _now_.”  
  
“You're dead.” Clint's voice is dazed, unfocused, for all his eyes are sharp and wary, fixed both on Phil and any and all possible escape routes, and if Phil hadn't hated that contemptable bastard Loki for everything he'd done already he would have now. “They told me you were dead.”  


“It was a mistake. I nearly died, but I didn't. I've been in medical for a very long time. Come inside now, Clint.” Clint just stared at him for a long minute, intently, like he was looking for or memorizing something. Finally, _finally,_ Clint gives him a short, jerky nod and starts his ascent. Phil backs away from the window to give Clint room to climb in and is less surprised than he would have thought to realized that instead of just Natasha all of the other Avengers are crowded around him. None of them are talking at the moment, either still shocked or giving him time to deal with Clint or both.

Clint scrambles through the window then, nimbly avoiding the broken glass, coming to a stop in front of Phil, seeming not to know whether he wants to sidle closer or run away. “Coulson?” The voice is small, hesitant, not something he's used to from the hyperactive, class clown Clint has always been. 

“Yes, it's me.” He fights the urge to take a step closer. Clint is physical with those he cares about, everything from hair ruffles and shoulder punches to tight hugs and cuddling to the point of practically laying on top of people on movie nights-but he has always, always, been better if he is the one who initiates it. 

Clint leaned towards him then away again, his eyes darting between Phil and the ceiling, Phil and the wall, and Phil notices that he keeps starting to lift his hands, starting to form signs and stopping and this time he does step closer his hands moving almost of their own accord,  _'Clint, it's me. It's Coulson, Clint. I promise.'_

Clint steps forward now, still not close enough-for all it was far too short, Phil was able to hug Natasha, to feel her safe and alive in his arms, and he'd kind of like to do the same with Clint now. ' _Coulson?'_

_'Yes.'_ It seems that is finally enough to convince him, to register through his haze of shock, because Clint launches himself at the other man, arms winding tight around him like an octopus and Phil returns the hug fiercely and Clint, Clint, his tough, cocky, smartass of a boy is crying into his shoulder and even as Phil is murmuring nonsense comfort to him he can see Natasha out of the corner of his eye standing alert as through she is guarding them from something, Natasha who always has his six just as Phil has hers, and finally, _finally_ , Phil feels like he has come home.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*

 

By the time Clint had calmed down and disentangled himself, taking a step back from Coulson, his teary face awash with a mixture of sheepishness and raw need, as though he hadn't wanted to let go at all, the other Avengers had excused themselves from the room, leaving it just the three of them. Phil was glad. He liked, cared about the others-but this, this was his family. “Tony has ordered pizza and the others are having a movie night in the communal rec room. We can join them of course, but they've also offered to have food delivered to our floor.” Natasha speaks calmly, but Coulson can tell that she is still more than unsettled by the fact that she had gone from being several feet away when he first hugged Clint to being so close she is almost hovering over them. Phil turns himself a bit, so that his shoulder brushes against hers; waiting for Clint who is rubbing his sleeve over his face to say which he prefers. If he hadn't already known that this year must have been hell for her he would have been alarmed at the way she pressed her shoulder into his, leaning into the contact. In ordinary circumstances Natasha rarely touched anyone but Clint, and casual touches were even rarer than things like hugs, but Phil supposed these were not ordinary circumstances.

As Phil decides if it is worth it to try and put his arm around her-after all he does _not_ want her to think Clint is the only one he wants to hug, the only one he needs to hold after being seperated from them for so long-Clint speaks up, talking more to the arm he'd been wiping his face on than anything else, but loud enough to be heard. “We could go to our floor, and maybe, have our own movie night? Fast and the Furious marathon, like we used to?” He peeks a look at Phil over his arm, hopeful and a little hesitant and even though Phil has never liked those movies as much as Clint seems to think he should that sounds like the best idea he has ever heard. Natasha who had only briefly stiffened before leaning further into Phil when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, much to his delight, nodded, but didn't say anything, and before Phil could do more than smile at Clint and open his mouth Jarvis's voice rang pleasantly through the room.

“I have taken the liberty of getting the entertainment center turned on and the movies queued for you, including the shorts, as I know Los Banderlos is one of Agent Barton's favorites. Would you like me to inform the others that you would like the pizza brought to your room when it arrives? ETA is five minutes.”

Phil chuckled as Clint beamed excitedly at the ceiling. He knew damn well the storm wasn't over with him-Clint had recovered himself far too quickly to have actually dealt with what he was feeling. Knowing Natasha she wasn't dealing with it all, tucking away what she didn't want to bother her in one of the many tidy compartments in her mind. Still though, for now he'd take the eye in the storm. “Thank you, Jarvis. That would be very helpful.”

“You are welcome. And may I say, welcome back Agent Coulson.”

“It's good to be back.” He motioned at a hovering Clint to come closer, not at all surprised when the archer wormed his way under Phil's free arm, and began to direct them out of the room. “Let's go see this floor Stark gave you all to yourselves.”

“Y'know, sir,” Clint said, suddenly bashful, “Our floor has an extra suite on it.” 

Phil squeezed Clint gently, “Is that an invitation?” 

It was Natasha who answered, “Tony would design you your own floor of course, but there is plenty of room.” Her voice was cool, sounding wholly detached, but Phil knew without a doubt that she would be devastated, more so even than Clint, for all he'd issued the invitation, if he said no. There was only one thing to say really. 

“Thank you.”

 

 *.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

A/N: Thanks for reading-if you wanted to let me know what you thought I would love that!  Concrit is always welcome as well.

 

P.S-Next Chapter will be Clint and Natasha as well, focusing a little heavier on Natasha. I have chapters started for Bruce and Steve, and a vague idea for Tony, but no clue for Thor (maybe being sad about Loki?...but it's been done before, and probably done better than I could do it) so if anyone has any ideas that would be great.  Honestly, any prompts with Coulson as TeamDad!Coulson would be fantastic.

 


End file.
